When I got twelve, Francisco gave me the skull of my father as a birthday present.
"Try to not do the same with me", the mocking tune he used made me try to cut his throat.
I failed and he beat me up.
I was told that after being beaten up, they threw his body into a pit filled with hungry dogs. When his flesh got devoured, just his skull remained intact.
I remember being shocked at the beginning, but the calm came after a few seconds.
I´m pretty sure that I stared at the skull for at least two days.
I felt nothing.
I wasn´t happy, neither sad.
My mind was blank.
I was betrayed and sold by him.
He never acted like a father figure, and always made my days harder.
But he still was my father.
Like it or not, we were connected by blood.
In the end, I buried what was left of him in the cemetery, although I never visited his tomb in further days.
I didn´t forgive him, there was no way I could do that. But I gained nothing by clinging to resentment, so I did what I wanted and forgot everything else.
I had other things to do.
Kill, torture, shooting, blackmailing, threatening, fighting.
All I know and all I am is thanks to Francisco and his teaching.
"The talent of a killer is killing even if he dies, the survivor kills and keeps walking".
According to Francisco, I had the exceptional talent to survive.
When I was fourteen I was more effective than any of his other men, so it didn´t take long before I became his bodyguard, but I never stopped trying to kill him.
When I hit fifteen, I localized my mother.
She remade her life, went to Canada, married a professor of good heart, and had a kid with him, however, she died three years after giving birth to liver cancer.
My half-brother is called Lucas, I met him the day of our mother´s funeral, when people came to give their condolences, I realized that a lot of them spoke well of my mother.
"She was all a fighter" "Someone admirable" "I´m sure she has her place in heaven".
Positive comments bombed her tomb as the rain kept soaking my clothes.
I was hiding in the surroundings, curled up behind a tree with a hidden mic near the coffin.
When her new husband talked about her, she told the audience how they met, how they fall in love.
Basically, their story together.
There weren´t direct mentions about me or my father on his part.
But there was a letter written by my mother.
"To all those people reading this, I ask for your forgiveness. In my stance in this simple but beautiful country, I lied about a lot of things, I´m not the hardworking person I always showed to you, I´m a coward, weak, and very bad. I´m sure everyone knows about my stance in Mexico, that is true, but I wasn't a teacher like I said I was, at that time I was a prostitute who slept with whoever had money. In one of my many jobs, I accidentally got pregnant, normally I would have aborted to keep working, but I couldn't, I didn't have the strength to take the decision and the establishments were not safe enough to guarantee my life. In the end, I gave birth to a boy. And I regret it very much, in my huge stupidity I couldn´t treat him like I wanted to be treated, in my incompetence I left him in hands of a broken man and a dark world. I regret a whole lot had brought him into the world. I regret a lot not being there with him like a mother should. I regret a lot not being able to watch him grow into a fine man. I regret not have taught him to love to be loved. I don´t know what was of him when I left my country, and I´m sure that he won´t listen to the words of this letter. But if the miracles exist and somehow you´re hearing this. I want you to know that I´m sorry. I´m so sorry. Hate me all you want. You have all the right to curse me. But please. Don´t direct that rage to the people trying to help you. Don´t hurt if you don´t want to be hurt. Don´t lie if you don't want to be lied to. Trust in the people who trust you. And if you´re walking through a dark path. I beg you. Get out of there. Look for help. Don´t hurt yourself. Don´t live in the past. If you did something bad apologize with the heart and work to obtain forgiveness, I am sure that someday you´ll find someone who can see how wonderful you are. Be happy. With pain and love. Your mother, Carmen".
I can´t remember how much I cried that day, by looking at the coffin of my mother being slowly buried underground.
When everyone left and I was alone, I got drunk on her tomb.
-You fucking bitch! You think your stupid letter changes anything?! I´M A FUCKING MUREDERER!! MY LIFE IS A LIVING HELL THANKS TO YOU!!!
I cursed until my throat closed.
After a while, I returned to the hotel where I hosted.
I laid down on the bed of the cheapest room and looked at the ceiling with a fuzzy head.
-You should have said that years ago... Idiot.
That night I dreamed about a different life, a simple house, enjoyable comfort, tasty food, and parents who loved me.
I woke up with tears in my eyes the next day and a message from Francisco telling me to come back to work.
I left a bunch of flowers on her tomb and returned to Mexico.
To say that the letter of my mother saved me would be an exaggeration. The damage was already done, no matter how much I tried, all I did and what I was wouldn´t disappear.
But I could end it.
So, at the age of sixteen, I killed all the members of the mob, including Francisco.
***
My target was peacefully drinking rum on his desk, a reloaded revolver waiting at his side.
-It took you five minutes, you can still improve.
My body was bathed in blood, tens of cuts, punches, and some bullets left their mark on my skin.
I was almost out of breath, my the adrenaline kept me awake.
My right hand held a long combat knife with the edge broken and my left an empty shotgun.
-I came to keep my word.
I threw away the shotgun and began to walk towards Francisco.
The man took the revolver and aimed at me, but I didn´t stop.
-Our drug reserves, on fire, our weapons, sold or broken, my men and allies, death, my money, looted, and my home, destroyed... You worked hard.
-I had the best teacher.
The moment I stood before him, for the first time in eight years, Francisco genuinely smiled.
He put the revolver on the desk and slip it to me, reflectively I took it with my right hand.
-... What is this?
-Just what it looks like.
Francisco raised from his seat and walked to me.
-I told you I would die only when the devil came for me.
He took the hand I used to held the pistol and put it on his forehead.
-Now that you're here, there´s no need to resist.
-... I don´t give a fuck about your mysticism or allegories.
I pulled the hammer and put my finger on the trigger.
-You´re just a mad man, and today you die.
-Of course, I´ve been waiting for that.
-....
Nothing was occurring like planned.
Francisco wasn´t just a genius, he was a complete monster when it comes to fights, not even a thousand meters sniper is safe against him.
Then, Why isn´t he fighting?
-Why?
-Hm? I already told you... The devil came for my soul... I believe have taught you to pay the owned.
I kicked away the favorite seat of Francisco.
-Stop your fucking games and tell me why!
-...
Francisco walked to the windows and opened the curtains.
-Roberto... Look at what you´ve done.
-...
I walked to his side without stopping aiming at him with the revolver and looked through the windows.
-.... I did that?
The garden, once comparable to green paradise, was flooding in a sea of blood and guts, the bodies of armed men were shattered because of the explosions, bullets, and knives I have used to kill them.
The van that used to kidnap me was on fire with a pair of corpses being calcinated by the flames in the driver and co-driver seats.
Lots of the windows had been broken due to the bullets and bodies threw at them.
-What do you feel by seeing all of this?
-...
It was a disgusting and unpleasant view, morbid, crude, and evil.
I had puked several times during the carnage.
I felt dirty, corrupted, desperate, angry, tired.
But he didn´t want those answers.
No.
A monster like him would only be satisfied with an answer proper of another monster.
-Nothing... I fell absolutely nothing.
Not even he could see through my lies anymore.
-Correct... Because you´re not human anymore... Now you´re a demon... Just like me.
As I expected, words only a monster would say.
-... To hell with that.
I kicked the knee of Francisco when he bowed y grabbed his head and stamped it against his precious desk.
-Be like you?!
Then I took his left arm and twisted it where it shouldn´t be twisted.
A disgusting crush told me that he would never use that arm again.
-I´m not like you!
I sat over his body and threw my fist to his face.
Pow! *
-I don´t kidnap kids!
Pow! *
-I don´t enjoy this work!
Pow! *
-I kill to survive not for pleasure!
Pow! *
-I don´t give a fuck if people are okay with that or not! I don´t give a fuck if I deserve it or not!
Pow! *
When his once appealing face was deformed in silence by my hits, I shoved the barrel of the gun in his mouth.
-I´ll redo my life! Nothing I did will be erased, yes, but not for that I´m going to live in the past! It doesn´t matter how long it takes! I´ll live the way I want, not for you, not for my parents, not for anyone, just for and to me!
The eyes of Francisco extended like plates for a moment, but then returned to normal.
-... Ghoo Lhock (Good luck).
My savior, my teacher, and the worst monster of my nightmares.
I thanked him for teaching me all the things I know and I hated him for the same reason.
He used to call me "son", but I never called him "father", we didn´t have that kind of connection, I never let him. Because I knew that if I gave in to the desire of having someone to call family with my whole heart, I could never leave that person.
I looked at Francisco for the last time.
-... Maybe... In another life... In another time... We could have been family.
One last genuine smile, a pat to my head, and the last sigh.
Bang! *
And all had ended.